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Tomorrow, height of summer we have 2 AW meetings
What is going on. What planning.
Do they expect people on holiday are going to watch grade 6 drivel.Tomorrow, height of summer we have 2 AW meetings
What is going on. What planning.
Do they expect people on holiday are going to watch grade 6 drivel.If you’re on holiday and wanting an afternoon/evening at a race meeting I don’t think you care what quality of races are been held, it’s just a day out, for most.
I’m afraid Red Rum’s answer says it all, no-one cares, and while this continues to happen we will increasingly be served absolute drivel.
I’m afraid Red Rum’s answer says it all, no-one cares, and while this continues to happen we will increasingly be served absolute drivel.
Look on the bright side: crap racing gets more people onto the FOBTs.
What exactly is it that makes you so snobbish about the grade of racing or the surface?
They can’t all be Group 1s. What is less entertaining about seeing a lower-ability group of horses racing on polytrack than seeing champions racing on turf? To me, there is no difference apart from Wolverhampton lacking the media guff that surrounds the big events.
Do you support your local football team, or are you a Man United fan who likes to feed sugar lumps to the police horses at cup finals?
Do you support your local football team, or are you a Man United fan who likes to feed sugar lumps to the police horses at cup finals?
As Bill Shankly said, "If Everton were playing at the bottom of the garden, I’d pull the curtains."
Tomorrow, height of summer we have 2 AW meetings
What is going on. What planning.
Do they expect people on holiday are going to watch grade 6 drivel.ARE NOT MY THING AS WELL, BUT THE AS GOT TO BE A MIXTURE OF HIGH QUALITY RACING LIKE ROYAL ASCOT AND LOW QUALITY LIKE WOLVERHAMPTON
(AW MEETING), FOR RACING FANS AND OWNERS.On the upside, there’s a Listed Fillies’ contest at Pontefract and the King Richard III Handicap* is normally a decent competitive Class 3.
I would presume that the mix of meetings is largely due to the bidding process in which the BHA are constrained by the OFT.
The distribution of the population of racehorses is such that there are a lot more at the lower level than there are at a higher level. It happens with the competiitors in any sport. There will always be a siginificantly larger quantity of lower level races because there are mroe competitiors aviable at that level.
Anyway, for those with patience there’s some decent racing coming up in the next few days.
Rob
* Thinking about it, it’s a wonder Leicester didn’t claim the rights to that one…
On the upside, there’s a Listed Fillies’ contest at Pontefract and the King Richard III Handicap* is normally a decent competitive Class 3.
* Thinking about it, it’s a wonder Leicester didn’t claim the rights to that one…
Richard of York, Duke of Gloucester, born in Northamptonshire, died in Leicestershire; so York, Cheltenham and Towcester have at least equal rights
Leicester’s showpiece race, the Leicestershire Stakes, was renamed the Richard III Stakes this year
If Pontefract were really clever and a little sick they’d run a race named after Richard II who was starved to death in Pontefract Castle
I run the risk of being hanged, drawn and quartered on the Knavesmire by my fellow Yorkists who want Richard III reinterred in York Minster but in my view Leicester are welcome to the murderous scoundrel (allegedly)
The opening lines from Shakespeare’s Richard III
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth’d his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp’d, and want love’s majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail’d of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish’d, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew’d up,
About a prophecy, which says that ‘G’
Of Edward’s heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here
Clarence comesRead that and marvel: the English language at its stupendous and sumptuous best
Can’t be too long until we have the Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth’d his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp’d, and want love’s majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail’d of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish’d, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew’d up,
About a prophecy, which says that ‘G’
Of Edward’s heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here
Clarence comes to ring BetCo on 0800 1234567 Selling Stakes.On the all weather, of course.
- Total Posts 764
Was going to have a bet today but with the races on offer I’ll happily pass, none of them look appealing whatsoever.
As recently as 2005 the Newmarket July meeting started
on the Tuesday , followed by Wednesday and Thursday .As recently as 2005 the Newmarket July meeting started
on the Tuesday , followed by Wednesday and Thursday .Aaaah the good days, we’ve been here before but that was before the madness of having all the best racing on a Saturday which this weekend means Newmarket, York, Ascot and Chester
The opening lines from Shakespeare’s Richard III
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried…
(etc etc et-bloody-ceterta…)Read that and marvel: the English language at its stupendous and sumptuous best
Dear oh dear. Another tiresome and irrelevant soliloquy from the failed actor (or probably Bacon or De Vere or someone..?) who’s only realistic claim to fame is creating some faux-history for that hideous McDonalds-laden third-rate tourist trap down the road.
Here’s a more pertinent lament by the late Ken Kesey (of
One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest
fame) on the death of his son. Proper writing, via a letter (in normal English) to some pals:
http://www.lettersofnote.com/2012/09/what-world.html
Mike
I’m surprised that almost a quarter-of-a-century after the first All-Weather meeting in this country, some still regard it as not ‘real’ racing and that it should not occur during the summer.
Times have changed. It’s here to stay at all times of year.
Mike
Dear oh dear. Another tiresome and irrelevant soliloquy from the failed actor (or probably Bacon or De Vere or someone..?) who’s only realistic claim to fame is creating some faux-history for that hideous McDonalds-laden third-rate tourist trap down the road.
Uncharacteristically cynical Mr Large, is your luck out?
However, mine and the bard’s effusive claptrap is deserving of such a riposte and that nice literary counterpunch from Mr Kesey
Locals tend to disparage beauty and history on their doorsteps don’t they? I walk around York staring at the pavement, only raising my head to scowl at the ‘bloody tourists’
The butterfly farm in Stratford’s nice, as is that rather olde-worlde tobacconists whose name escapes me. Can’t afford the theatres
The butterfly farm in Stratford’s nice, as is that rather olde-worlde tobacconists whose name escapes me. Can’t afford the theatres
The tobacconists is Lands. I was tempted to say "you’re not missing ‘owt" regarding the theatre, but I suppose I should admit to a little tongue-in-cheekism…
To be honest, the riff-raff have never quite got over this:
http://www.stratfordtownfc.co.uk/Default.aspx?id=544919
Mike
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